


but i got it right when i caught your eye

by r1ker



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M, for my dearest howie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: i loves me the dinfoyle





	

**Author's Note:**

> i loves me the dinfoyle

"My jacket, huh?" Dinesh hears it somewhere over his left shoulder, quiet against the din of keyboard strokes and hums of a motherboard. He buries his hands unconsciously further into the hoodie, inhaling mindlessly the notes of cigarette smoke that comes out of the fabric as he shifts. There's no telling just how much of the odor is comprised of weed fumes but Dinesh figures it's a 30-70 mix, the latter being the joints. Everyone under their roof has been under the magnifying glass in the past few days, and they've taken to (perhaps unsavory to the outsider) methods to letting some of it out.

 

Dinesh finishes the line of code he was writing and hits Enter to move to the next. "Cold in here. I can't fucking touch the thermostat without Erlich flipping his shit. It was the closest one." Gilfoyle snickers and flops down onto the short sofa next to him, long legs fitting neatly beneath the coffee table. Much to Dinesh's chagrin Gilfoyle unmutes the television and they're both joined by the arguing of a well-to-do straight couple on House Hunters. With nothing to do Gilfoyle begins to narrate the couple's escapades to find a home on an island he couldn't find on a globe with a gun to his head.

 

"For fuck's sakes, who needs a lanai for a place they'll only be at three months out of the year?" he grumbles, bending at the waist to rummage through the bowl of trail mix on the coffee table in search of any remaining M&M's. "Maybe that's my economic inequality coming through." He's quiet for a while as the TV couple is introduced to their three options for a lavish vacation home, but pipes up the second another conflict arises. "And goddammit, these people have a bigger style conflict than any of those celebrity couples you'd never think would end up together."

 

Dinesh is only half paying attention to the last part but offers his input anyway, never looking up from the screen. "How so?" He knows he's opened a box he'll never be able to get shut willingly the second Gilfoyle sits up and cracks his knuckles in anticipation for a lengthy argument.

 

"Law student wife, entrepreneur husband. Far as I can see, and can half fucking pick up between the two of them yelling at each other about crown molding, he's patented something that keeps the ketchup bottle from pissing when you use it. She's way out of his league, man," Gilfoyle explains, and Dinesh's face splinters in a genuinely amused smile. "Can read the law and lock us all up in the slammer with one fell swoop, or keep our French fries from getting soggy? I'm going with Johnny Law."

 

"Ketchup bottles probably got him all the ladies, don't shame him for trying," Dinesh chides as if there's any other way to respond to that ramble. "I for one would like the budget these two have set for this house. $850k? Price like that, if they're not gunning for towel warmers, I want nothing to do with these fucks."

 

Gilfoyle laughs deep in his throat, a deep chuckle, settling in closer to Dinesh on the couch. Dinesh can feel their thighs brushing, the back of the couch dipping where Gilfoyle's arm is slung across his shoulders in a version of the old yawn-and-stretch technique. Finally, the couple on TV decides on a house ( _God, that's an ugly fucking house for almost $800,000,_ Gilfoyle immediately complains) and the credits roll, aware of yet another set of satisfied customers. Dinesh tugs the hoodie tighter around himself as the A/C kicks back on, a wave of chilly air drifting out of the vents once again. Gilfoyle picks up on his inner need for warmth and, oh, now they're really into this now, his tousled head going to Dinesh's shoulder within his hoodie sleeve.

 

Dinesh doesn't pay it any mind – since when is he to reject any sort of affection from anyone, not like he's been the top dog at the dating game in a while – and continues to type his code. Gilfoyle sighs when Dinesh reaches the eighth paragraph of a page that has yet to even be fully formatted, hair brushing the underside of Dinesh's jaw in the process. "Yes, I get it, you're very cute." _And very clingy, my God, if he wants money from me, he's sniffing up the wrong...shoulder._ He brushes it aside in favor for trying to figure out just why the hell text boxes won't appear on this part of the webpage he's currently working on.

 

"You're cute, too, but you can't close a gap in code to save your fucking life," Gilfoyle criticizes, warm hand shoving Dinesh's aside and easing long fingers onto keys that finally relieve the code of its awkward gap. "There. Continue." He chuckles in the same low way when Dinesh sputters, feigning annoyance. The time ticks away, Gilfoyle never showing any sort of boredom, as he remains free to lean against Dinesh's shoulder. When it finally grows to be enough to spur him to do something else, he says to Dinesh, "Hey. Think fast." Looking down to see just what the hell Gilfoyle's got planned Dinesh is kissed probably the softest he ever has been in his life.

 

When they part it's with a soft noise, and Dinesh hates how he's gotten that good with the claim Gilfoyle makes the second they're far enough apart to look each other in the eye. "I'd buy a lanai for you. Maybe not with white trim, but it'd be a pretty fucking nice lanai."


End file.
